


Sentry

by FrostbitePanda



Series: Happy Citadel [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Angst, Continuation, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy/Healthy Citadel, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Trying to be Normal People, Mytic!Max, Post-Movie, Rating May Change Who Knows, Road Warrior Dorks, Slice of Life, The Citadel Rebuilding, Tid-Bits, War Rig Family, dad!Max, lots of feelings, tags will change, the wives ship Furiosa/Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostbitePanda/pseuds/FrostbitePanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He nods, shakes his head, curses under his breath, clutches at his hair. She twirls the splinter of wood in her mouth with her tongue. “You two sure are annoying, you know that?” </p><p>(A collection of ficlets, focusing on life at the Citadel. Most of these take place after the events of 'Hounded' and 'The Fire Moves Away', but you don't need to have read those to enjoy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentry

She knows who is at their gates before the nervous War Boy even has the words out of his mouth. “B-boss, it’s… It’s the Mad--”

“We need to get him in and to the Healing Ward as soon as possible.” She cuts across him quickly, trying to keep her voice even and commanding like Furiosa’s. She wasn’t nearly as good at it as her. “I’ll greet him myself.”

Her shoulders ache and the noon sun presses on her back like hot coals. The lift seems almost noisier than usual, the chains rattling like sun-bleached bones inside her skull. He’s out of his car already, striding forward, seemingly unconcerned with leaving it in the sand and letting the People swarm over it to do with it what they will. They knew of him by now of course, but even their reverence of Furiosa’s Mad Man would not stop them for long. Old habits die hard in the Wasteland.

She inwardly rolls her eyes at his impatience, whistles and points at two War Pups hovering at her side. They’re watching with barely contained dread as some of the bolder People start to sniff around the abandoned vehicle. At her whistle they look up at her and she tilts her head to the car. With much excitement and awe, they race forward, vaulting off the platform to fetch the legendary Interceptor owned by Max the Mad. No one but Furiosa was allowed to even touch it, much less drive it.

Max himself is still striding toward the lift, lunges forward and is scrambling onto the platform when it’s still eight feet from the ground.

“Fool,” she says to him. It feels strange to use Furiosa’s peculiar pet name for him, but it suits him too well sometimes.

He pulls down the black scarf from over his nose and mouth, puffing from his acrobatics. He’s obviously ridden for days with very little rest-- if any. “You look like shit, as usual,” she says, a bit tightly. The blaze of pure panic in his eyes was making her uneasy. Uneasiness was always a sure way to bring out her inner shit-talker.

“Furiosa,” he breathes and he looks so fucking wretched that she can’t possibly tease him anymore.

“Max--” She doesn’t know what to say to him. It had been pretty bad for a bit there, but her fever broke last night. She was _so bad_ at this. “She’s okay. Really.”

“Dyin’... That’s what they said--”

She shakes her head at him, disappointed. “Aye, an’ I once heard eating the toenails off a dead man will cure indigestion.”

He ducks his head, hands fretting with his belt, inconsolable. She sighs and waves an arm to signal that the lift should be reversed. “She’s in the Healing Ward… Been asking for you.”

He nods, shakes his head, curses under his breath, clutches at his hair. She twirls the splinter of wood in her mouth with her tongue. “You two sure are annoying, you know that?”

+++

She had laughed a little, with her face in his neck and a hand in his hair. He had strode in with three long steps and had her in his arms within a blink.

“Clear off sonny, give the girl some air,” Vyrie had admonished him, not at all humorless.

He had seemed reluctant to acquiesce, but finally relinquished her after she had turned her mouth to his ear, sharing words only he could hear.

He stayed with her, the Healing Ward now all but empty, filling with the rusty light of desert dusk. He sat on the small cot, one leg filling the gap left to him, the other dangling off the edge. He pressed his back to the stone of the wall, breathing, concentrating on how she dragged swirling finger tips over the whorls and scars of his palm that lay up-turned in his lap, how she pressed her forehead into his hip and how the blankets rose and fell with the bellows of her breath.

“I remember,” she says, speaking for the first time in hours, “waking up almost exactly like this.” She looks up at him and though her skin is still pallid, the hollows around her eyes still bruised with fever, her small, secret smile still strikes him like a blow. She points at him, back to herself. “‘Cept the tables were turned.”

He brushes the hand she had been painting with her own over her scalp. He remembers too, but he doesn’t have to tell her that.

She settles back down, hands curled in front of her. He rests his arm down the back of her neck, her spine. “Almost three hundred and sixty days ago,” she says, some curiousness in her voice, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she said it.

“Mm… Our anniversary?” He replies, thoughtless, and closes his eyes.

He feels her shift at that, lifting herself up on her arm. He opens one eye to see her looking at him, a questioning line creasing between her eyes. “Anniversary?”

He clears his throat, throws a shoulder up. “Anniversary… Like the celebration of-- a year of--” he stops short, licks his lips. “Ah-- a year of…” He motions to himself and then to her, a binding, resolute gesture.

She just looks at him for a moment, blinking. He can tell that she doesn’t know how to respond and he’s not sure how he feels about that so he kisses her.

She pulls back sharply. “Don’t want to get you sick,” she says with a smile, picking up her hand from the bed and running a finger over his collar bone.

He shakes his head, so lost in her he doesn't know what else to do but brush a hand over the lines of her neck. Something in his expression must set something off within her, because she grabs his wrist, drags it to her mouth, lays a rough kiss there. “I’m _fine_ now Max.”

He shakes his head again, thumb twitching by the shell of her ear. “Wasn’t here… Shoulda been.”

“Can’t always, you know.”

“Maybe,” he heaves a great breath, “Maybe-- could be.”

She laughs, a soft, tinkling sound, and he knows she can’t help it. But when he had said it aloud, he knew he meant it.

“Can’t uh--” he clears his throat, feeling helpless, nothing to hold on to, “Can’t lose…” He lets his head fall forward, so their foreheads are pressed together. “It’s uh-- not really an option anymore.” It had stopped being an option a long time ago, but he always liked pushing his luck.

She smiles, weak and watery against the tears that he knows are threatening. “I used to think about… If anything ever happened to you-- I’d never know. You just--” She swallows thickly, throws her arm around his neck. “You just wouldn't come back to me.”

He slams his eyes shut at that, the ragged words stinging into him like shrapnel, sharp and acidic. The weight of a world that contained her was almost too much for him to bear. She deserved better-- _so much_ better.

“Mm… Don’t have to worry about that,” he rumbles low and sad, sliding their noses together, tightening his fingers into the flesh of her hip.

They’re silent for a time, breathing each other like new earth. He rubs thoughtless symbols on her wrist with his thumb, willing the darkness away with glyphs long dead.

“What do you do… For an anniversary?” She finally asks, pulling back slightly. The change of subject is almost comical.

He shrugs. “Usually give gifts. Flowers. Jewelry.”

“Promises?”

He huffs a laugh, manages a small, rueful smile.

She leans into him again, “Happy anniversary Max.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how long this will be, but I just wanted a spot to put all these little scraps up. These are just little Slice of Life things after Max takes on a more permanent role at the Citadel. Most of thse take place in my 'Hounded'/'Fire Moves Away' timeline, but most of these you won't have to have read those to get it. 
> 
> The particular moment Furiosa is referencing happens in 'Hounded', after Max first wakes up after the battle and these two dorks both fall asleep in a very similar position. 
> 
> I also want to explore Wasteland mythology and I am fascinated by the idea of Mythic!Max and Mythic!Furiosa and Mythic!Wives, so there will be some playing around with that as well. 
> 
> This is basically a trash heap. Enjoy! (And come see me at [at my tumblr.](http://www.freshhexes.tumblr.com/))


End file.
